Dragon Dawn
by naughteblonde
Summary: This is the R rated version of Dragon Dawn. This story is about finding your true opposite in the one you least expected.


It had been raining when he first stepped onto platform 9 ¾ that morning, pouring so heavily that the already nervous new first years were thrown into disarray and were fleeing soaking on to the Hogwarts Express to cower shivering in the compartments.Even Potter scurried on to the train after his worthless friends looking like a drowned rat in his oversized muggle hand me downs while his relatives looked nervously about at all the wizarding folk. He allowed himself a small snort of amusement at the memory of Potter shaking with cold and trying desperately to keep his messy wet hair out of his eyes but that quickly faded. The sky was as black as his mood today. He turned to say goodbye to his mother and was granted one of her wonderful warm smiles that had become more and more common recently. Giving into the urge he ran back into her arms as if he was a child, not a 16 year old and silently tried to ignore the fact that he just didn't want to leave the safety of her embrace. Gently she stroked his back, whispered words of comfort and encouragement and then urged him onto the train.   
  
She had really blossomed in the short time since Lucius' death, like a flower having its first experience of the sun she had opened to him in a way he'd never known in childhood. When the day that he'd feared his whole life had happened she'd looked so frail standing there next to Dumbledore in the Great Hall and he'd known instantly that his father had been killed. Standing slowly he'd made his way over to her holding his head high and feeling the gaze of every other student burning his neck. He held back the tears until he was out of sight then broke down, burying his pain in the side of her neck and not caring about the hand of Dumbledore drawing soothing circles on his shoulder to calm his sobs. Lucius had been distant, removed and often brutal in his treatment of his son but it didn't lessen the pain and grief of his passing.   
  
Later in Dumbledore's office his sorrow had quietened down to hitching breaths and he was told the tale. Voldemort had been destroyed by an uprising of the death eaters who had grown tired of his obsessive and manic behaviour towards Potter and his lack of interest in power. Sickening of talks of revenge they had plotted quietly and then took the first opportunity presented. This news did not surprise him as his father had been one of the key players in Voldemort's downfall and he'd been aware of the plot from the beginning of his sixth year at Hogwarts. He was also aware of the consequences. A massive power struggle had ensued between the surviving death eaters to claim the position of Dark Lord which lead to widespread fighting among them. His father had been killed by one of those death eaters who saw him as too much of a threat, causing a   
large enough explosion to kill several other death eaters and nearby muggles too. Now the ministry was simply wiping up the mess and sending aurors out against the remaining death eaters who were too busy squabbling to defend themselves. There was no war between good and evil. Evil had simply rotted from the inside out.  
  
'Which one killed him?'he asked.  
  
'Nott'  
  
Dumbledore had offered to let him return home (with the agreement of Snape) for the rest of the year since it was almost over anyway and he would return at the beginning of his seventh year. When he'd looked into Dumbledore's eyes he'd been shocked to see emotions he recognised but had never once been aimed in his direction by anyone in his life: Kindness, empathy, understanding. Then he'd been rushed away by his mother and ever since then his whole world had revolved around her.  
  
Now as he settled into an empty compartment and waited for the Slytherin hordes to descend he gazed out the window at her shadowy form under the large black umbrella. As he raised his hand goodbye he saw her lips move.  
  
`Goodbye Sweetheart. Take care. I love you.'  
  
And his own brand new smile came unbidden to the surface. Three little words had gone a long way to heal the gash that had opened in his heart, the fact that there was at least one person in the world that loved him unconditionally and he knew about it.   
  
`I love you too… mama' he whispered as the train began to move feeling a spark of pleasure at the ability to say those words but knowing in his heart of hearts that something was still missing. A part of his heart that the love of his mother could never fill but what could…he had no idea. Slumping back against his seat he fell into pointless thought staring at the blurred scenery flying past.   
  
*~*~*  
  
Harry stumbled up the moving train trying not to bump into the other students milling around the corridor and trying to get his goddamn hair off his face so he could see where Ron and Hermione had got to. Peeping into the first compartment he quickly retreated with a jerk. Ginny Weasley and her gaggle of giggling Gryffindors had made his life somewhat difficult for the past two years and getting dragged into their midst and cooed over was not his idea of fun at all.  
  
`Would rather wrestle a hippogriff' he mumbled to himself.  
  
Sneaking forward he dared a look in the next compartment along and was greeted by the sight of Neville Longbottom's rear end waving in the air as he searched frantically for something he seemed to have lost in his trunk on the floor which no doubt he had forgotten and would be owled to him the next morning. Chuckling Harry moved on through the train searching for his friends waving at the people he did know and ducking away from those he didn't who gawped openly at the little lightning shaped scar on his forehead. He'd never get used to the amount of attention directed at him because of something so small though he understood the significance behind it and the expectations attached to it. Though now he'd never get the chance to live up to those expectations: Voldemort was dead and he wasn't all that sure how he felt about it. He was glad that the danger was mostly over and people would be safe but somehow he felt cheated, incomplete, as though he was missing a purpose.  
  
Still musing he peeped into the next compartment and paused for a moment to look at the lone figure within. Malfoy. The slim pale boy was slumped in the corner of the compartment with his long legs aimed carelessly in front of him. His hair was longer than he remembered, tickling the sides of Malfoy's cheeks and soft looking without the typical cement like gel. He had gained some bulk compared to last year but so had many of the students after nearly two years on a diet of fear and terror. He wasn't as…pretty as he used to be, but the sharp angular planes of his face had softened somewhat into the expressive lines of someone leaving boyhood. Chewing on his bottom lip and ignoring the drip of ice cold water making its way between his shoulder blades he tried to figure out exactly what it was that struck him as different about Malfoy apart from the physical. Without the usual superior sneer on his face and with the way his shoulders slouched he actually looked rather vulnerable. Lost.  
  
He looked so different from that last time Harry had set eyes on him, he had strode towards his mother with his head high like he didn't care the whole school had guessed the reason she was there but he'd seen Malfoy's hands clenched the way they did when he knew a fight with Harry was coming. He'd glanced him on the platform earlier, a blond light through the rain, wrapped up in his mothers arms like Hogwarts was a nightmare he didn't want to face and it had surprised Harry to see him so open with emotions like that. For some reason he never imagined that Malfoy could express affection.   
  
`Harry! We're in here!' hollered the freckled bushfire sticking its head out of a compartment ahead `What _are_ you doing standing there?'  
  
Hearing the shout Malfoy's head snapped round and grey eyes collided with green. Brief shock registered on the pale face in front of him and Malfoy flinched slightly as if expecting a blow before his expression closed completely and he simply sat there, staring at Harry and waiting. Harry quickly ducked his head, long wet black locks covering his glasses, to break that icy stare and backed away towards Ron. It just didn't feel right to say anything to Malfoy when he was still so obviously grieving. Putting the odd sensation of wanting to comfort him out of his mind Harry headed into his friends compartment. He would leave Malfoy to his pain.


End file.
